Unforgiveable You
by maehsweet
Summary: Someone from the past wreaks havoc in the lives of Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh and Detective Woody Hoyt.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own any of the characters, etc. I just thought of this last week - prior to Fire From the Sky which aired yesterday. I reviewed it and figured I would give it a go, so here's my second story on FanFiction..._

**Remembering**

I closed my eyes, letting the sun fall across my face and absorbing the rays as if trying to gain some revelation. A warm breeze floated along the porch. It was relaxing, and for the first time in months, I let myself remember….

I rubbed absently at my protruding stomach. I was pregnant, due in three months. From a night of unbridled passion that was emotionally one-sided. I knew he loved her. I hated that, but I knew. And yet - and yet…he'd had some feeling for me that went beyond friendship. I was almost positive of that. But I pursued and pursued, hoping that once we'd had a taste of what could be, he would forget all about her. And I had been wrong.

Ironic. So ironic. He was so in love with her. And she was so in love with him. But she didn't even know it - neither of them did. They were stuck in this awkward "mating dance" kind of thing, and it sickened me completely. When she found out - about "us" - she started to treat me differently, but subtly.

It was hard to work with her everyday. And I knew she felt the same. On the one hand, I hated her. She was ruining my personal, private life….taking him away from me, even if she didn't know it. I had finally found some sort of happiness after an emotionally difficult break-up with the man who had almost become my husband. Finally, finally - I found _him_. He was my Adonis, I supposed. Gorgeous. My smile widened as I thought of him, of the first - and last - night we had ever made love. His body was sheer perfection, lean and hard and fully masculine. And when he looked at me with those deep blue eyes, it was as though I were swimming in the ocean, drowning in his sensual gaze. Until he said her name. It was no mistake, and we both knew it. And from there, our relationship grew more than awkward. He stopped calling, stopped smiling at me, stopped caring. So I hated her. Literally and figuratively and in every sense of the word.

And on the other hand, I respected her professionally. I enjoyed working with her, learning from her. She excelled in her field, and I knew it. She had worked hard, following some innate instinct that drove her to superiority on the job - but only on the job. Because her personal life was a mess. .And so, it was a trial to work with her, day in and day out. Such a challenge. I had to hide my intense hatred. But I guess that she knew something too, or maybe she heard about us - rumors circulating around the workplace. Because outside of work, we never spoke. Never called to chat. Would ignore one another on the street, in restaurants, in the bar. Rearrange our schedules when possible. We never went out of our way to cross paths. We were civil and professional because we had to be. But there was nothing more. And I might have regretted it, if I hadn't been drawn to him so completely.

I would walk down the hall and see her, and I would laugh inwardly, enjoying the pain I was causing her. Wonder if she was thinking about his arms wrapped around me, our bodies connecting in a way hers never had….And then I would groan because I knew that, even as we were making love that once, he was thinking of her. And so, when the plane was about to go down, I grabbed an emergency parachute from the cockpit and I took a deep breath and I jumped, leaving the mind games and the torment behind me, if only for a while.

But Woody didn't know. He didn't know I was alive at all.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, show, etc. I love the job the writers do, but I have questions I need to answer at least for myself grin>. I will try to update soon._

Chapter 2 - Escape

It was really a miracle that I'd escaped that fiery crash. I knew it now. It was only the sheer determination I'd had to get out of my frenzied life that enabled me to think clearly and take action. Gaining control of the situation had been dangerous, yes. Complicated and difficult. But I guess I was just at a place in my life that made the possibilities worth fighting for. And I was so furious with Woody. It seems to me that anger can spur you on to a lot of seemingly impossible feats.

I hadn't been thinking clearly when I found myself in the middle of a heated telephone argument with my ex and promised to meet him, to settle on a property we had purchased together that had, after endless months on the market, finally sold. I didn't want to see him, to rekindle the grand memories he brought up - which, of course, were nil. I just wanted it over. I thought if I could finally close that chapter of my life, I could fully concentrate on the one at hand…

I wanted everything to be over between Jordan and Woody. I figured it was just a matter of time. Woody was not a doormat, after all. It would just be a matter of time, and I hoped that it was sooner rather than later. I saw the way they worked together, heard the respect and admiration for her work, her skills, her sleuthing in his voice. So I determined to show him that I could be just as uh…pushy. Determined, really. She _was_ damn good at her job.

Anyway, because we'd been avoiding each other since the passionate outburst of Jordan's name during our sole sexual encounter, I hadn't bothered to call him to tell him I was going out of town. I didn't think it was any of his business, not then. But I often wondered how he'd reacted when he heard about the plane crash. I wanted to call him, to see if he was grieving or mourning for me at all, to let him know I was alright, that I wanted us to be _together_. All those thoughts had twirled in my head as the parachute drifted along over fields and trees that were in the middle of nowhere. I didn't remember landing at all. I didn't remember anything for a while…

Amnesia. A part of your mind shuts down, can't remember. That was how I'd ended up here. At this country hospital of sorts - a retreat for some maybe, but not for me. The doctors had said that I would remember soon enough. I guess that I'd been found without the parachute, far removed from the sight and ragged and beat-up looking. Nobody associated me with the plane. Computer glitches had prevented them from matching my face to a name. The power went out all the time in this god-forsaken country town, miles from civilization I guessed. But maybe it was safer that way.

It had taken a long time for my memory to come back. And when it had, I didn't like the memories. All the years I had thought I was moving along in the right direction, striving for perfection only to find that it somehow eluded me when it came to things of great importance. I remembered my name, my profession, my family, my friends. And I remembered him. That memory came bitterly, the result of a pregnancy test that flooded me with hope and sadness and resentment all at once.

I'd guessed from the news reports that not all of the bodies were even recoverable. I saw Woody briefly in the background during a news flash a month after the incident, when they were talking about the black box and the implication and speculation of what had really happened up there. He looked handsome, busy. I felt my heart lurch a little.

I couldn't understand how he could actually prefer _her_ over me. At work, I had started to be pushy, striving to solve puzzles and earn admiration. That's when I knew I had fallen for him…Something I hadn't planned on, because of the whole "ex" thing. But when things in that department weren't as forthcoming as I'd wanted, I'd tried my hand at what I'd always had. The gift of beauty and the power of flirtation had landed him at my door - whether it was at the apartment or at the morgue - at least on Sunday nights. Nights he'd previously spent with Jordan. Until she'd blown him off once or twice and he'd called me. It dawned on me that I had been nothing more than a replacement.

So here I was, in the middle of nowhere, where people still didn't really know who I was. Because I really didn't know anymore either. I could remake myself entirely if I chose. For better or for worse. And I did choose, but for better or worse is still a matter of opinion I suppose. And the first order of business was to make myself even more invisible, so that I could torment Jordan Cavanaugh the way she'd tormented me - except that, unlike her, I would be unseen, unknown, unwelcome.

Maybe it was the result of some lasting head trauma from when I'd jumped from the plane. Or maybe I just had that much hatred bottled up inside me. I was, after all, far removed from my loved ones and only a vague memory, perhaps - especially to those in Boston. But _he_ was in Boston.. Where I wanted to be. Back in the morgue, back with my friends. Back with him. I couldn't show my face there - not yet. But in the meantime I, Devon McGuire, would take back all the pride I had lost and right all the wrongs that had been done to me by one Doctor Jordan Marie Cavanaugh...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - A Child is Born

It was almost Christmas, and I was busy with my plotting and planning…anything to keep my mind off of the pending birth of my child…A birth I would have to endure alone. I was more than a little afraid. I wondered, if something were to happen, some trifling complication, where my child would end up…There was no way to contact Woody now…I couldn't risk that yet. I was so bent on my revenge that I would rather not bring him into his child's life just yet -- not when _she _was still around. I wanted her to be farther than a memory to him first, so that we would be his family and he would have no thoughts of her at all. But for now, I was sitting outside on a porch swing, watching snowflakes tumble and fall from the sky like confetti. The glow from the hastily strewn lights shone red and green and blue and yellow over the clean, fresh palette of snow on the ground. I loved Christmas.

I remembered a lot about my childhood, my adulthood. But my favorite memory of all time was a Christmas memory. We were certainly not poor, but for some reason on Christmas, we pretended we were a close-knit family who had time for each other. Our gifts were selected with the greatest care, as if we only had the money for one thing and that one thing must be precious. It reminded me often of the stories where the girl sells her hair for a chain for a pocket watch that was, in turn, sold for a hair comb. We were thoughtful and polite, not cold and distant as usual. It was the only day my parents did not push for my perfection, and it was the only day I actually gave it whole-heartedly. My father would come home early - a rarity - and we would eat TV dinners in front of a large screen TV and watch Dr. Seuss' classic tale "How The Grinch Stole Christmas"…Not the movie makeover with Jim Carey -- not that I minded him so much, he's a great actor…But you should never, ever mess with a classic. What would "It's A Wonderful Life" be without Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed…And how could you ever replace Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable in "Gone With the Wind"? Anyway, what I remember was the Grinch, his heart as tight as his shoes, standing high above Who-ville and thinking of some way to end the over-rated happiness the Whos found in celebrating Christmas. It was just kinda' how I felt then, when my parents were always fighting…Then later, when I fought with my ex-fiance. And now, when I was fighting back, for the poor child within me who might never know his or her father…

Because I couldn't help but feel that as much as I desired Woody, as much as I thought about him, as much as I wanted to try to fix everything broken between us….She would always be in the way. Dead, alive, running away. Her presence was just there - a big invisible barrier that they'd both put up to shut me out of his life completely. The child within me could possibly be a slight barrier in their relationship, but nothing compared to the wall she was to me. I needed to find a way to surmount the wall. To push past every single sensory and intellectual and emotional feeling he had for her. It sounded impossible.

But in the back of my mind I recalled something Jordan had mentioned, back when we were somewhat friendly with one another, back before I fell for the blue-eyed detective. She'd told me - probably after one too many drinks, the only way I thought she'd ever confide such a thing - that her mother had been crazy. At first, I thought she meant wild, unpredictable, fun and full of life, with that vibrant "devil-may-care" energy Jordan had - daring, without caring about the consequences. But I later learned that she meant it in the mental sense. And I thought that was my ace. I could literally drive Jordan insane.

And the insanity of my plans kept me on the verge of madness. When my son was born on Christmas, I refused drugs and focused all my physical efforts on pushing -- but mentally, I was pushing Jordan over the edge, pushing her out of Woody's life, pushing myself and our son into his life. Pushing - pushing - pushing…The lusty cries of my son were the only thing that brought my mind back to reality, back to my loneliness. Back to myself. And I temporarily brushed the thought of Jordan out of my mind to celebrate the love I had for my son and his father. For that one moment - and only that moment - Jordan was as invisible to me as the snowflakes that had melted away outside my window pane to become vapor in the atmosphere.


	4. Chapter 4

_A**/N: Thanks so much for sticking with me. If you've been reading my other fanfics, you'll know that I've had computer troubles. So it's been a very big challenge to get my stories back together let alone posted. I appreciate the reviews and the encouragement to continue. Please don't fear -- I am in reality a HUGE W/J Shipper! For now, though, I hope you enjoy the story. **_

Chapter 4 - Laboring

There's nothing like the pains of labor to make you realize how much you hate someone. And there's nothing like the sight of a newborn to make you realize how much you love that someone.

Before the birth of my son, things had been strange. Now, he was the one thing that kept me fueled with hope for something better. Once the memories had come back - of who I was, how I'd gotten here and - most importantly - of my condition, I had tried to concentrate on regaining my strength and my health. Every day had brought the possibility - and often reality - of morning sickness. Well, morning-afternoon-and-night sickness, in my case. I had plodded through the remainder of my pregnancy reliving any pleasant childhood memories I could capture - sparse though they were - and dreaming of him.

Every once in a while, the sky would be a clear blue and I could see his crystal eyes staring into mine, filled with passion, desire…Not love. He loved _her_. And it was on those days that I would think about Jordan and wonder what she was doing. Wonder if she had finally stopped running. If his body was arching against hers….Well, I just couldn't go there. It was bitter. I hoped and prayed that she had done something stupid - as she was often wont to do - and had finally gotten herself in a jam nobody could rescue her from.

Even though I was upset about the relationship that was obvious between Woody and Jordan, I never imagined that I would go totally off the deep end. But now here I was, plotting and planning….and enjoying every minute of it, the anticipation of Jordan's face wreathed in horror goading me, driving me on and on in my madness.

It was not that I wanted to hate her, really….I just…_did_. With a passion that surprised me. I would go to sleep at night, dreaming of Woody's arms around me, and then suddenly he was holding her, making love to her, and I was standing there watching them together….I think that's what put me over the edge. Because when he'd called out her name, that's what flashed through my mind.

Maybe it was hormones? Maybe just that ancient green-eyed monster - jealousy - ripping through my heart and through my mind at every turn. It was hard _not_ to think of them, when here I was, very pregnant at that time, sitting alone in my room or at dinner or on the porch. Maybe it was some deep-seated maternal instinct, my wanting to give my child everything that he or she deserved.

There was one intern here who reminded me of _him_…The same build, the same dark hair…But I had been disappointed to find that his eyes were not crystalline at all, but a dull mottled brown. I had been close to leaving when the uppity doctor decided to keep me until the baby was born, to be sure I took care of myself. But after that, I was to be practically turned out onto the streets, so what was the sense in that? I had always enjoyed the privileges associated with money, so feeling out of control of my life - and poor and needy on top of that - was just one more thing that I attributed to her and that fueled the passion with which I vowed revenge.

But now - now my son was born. After hours of laborious - well, _labor_. Michael Jeremy Hoyt. With the birth of my son, more of my memories came back. The doctor was almost giddy with relief that there was a possibility that I had someone somewhere to care for me and the child. And I remembered the Cayman account that my ex had set up for us before he became totally unreasonable…Henri would probably be surprised to know that he was about to be robbed by a "dead woman", but I didn't have anywhere else to turn…Not if I wanted my revenge. I needed Woody - and there was only one way to get him. And get him I would. I refused to think of anything else in those lucid moments when Michael was not occupying my full attention. I had to find a way to make things right. Michael was entitled to know his father, to have the love that I had never known from my own parents.

Oh, I suppose they had loved me, in their rich, spoiled way. I was more like a trifle, though - a little girl who was pushed to be the best at everything so they could show her off as a trophy to their friends, discuss how perfect she was at dinner parties while she sat home alone with the nanny or the housekeeper. Michael had my love, my full heart - at least, the part that was not already his father's. I could not forget my plans. I could not put them on hold much longer. Michael needed Woody. _I_ needed Woody. And I knew I would never get him - not wholeheartedly - until she was gone.

Gone in every way possible. I would drive her insane, at first. Make her think she was following in her mother's footsteps. Then I would lure her out of her safety zone and push her totally over the edge. So that it would be death by her own hand. And I would be free from her at last.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews. Please continue to hang in there. I really hope you enjoy it! As always, the usual disclaimer applies. Don't own CJ (or JOC either, darn!).**_

Chapter 5 - A Start

We moved hastily from the horrid place I had deemed the "country clinic". A taxi was hailed and we were unceremoniously deposited in the back, the sole piece of luggage the only clue that we'd been here for months. Michael was 18 weeks old, and growing by the minute. There were no mushy goodbyes or anything so sentimental -- I had pretty much kept to myself. Maybe that was another factor in my insane plans. I didn't care. The taxi driver asked the normal "Where to?" and I pointed him to Boston.

The only thing I would miss about the "country clinic" was the peaceful feeling I got sitting and rocking on the porch swing. There were no porches safe enough in Boston. No country views or mountain vistas. Just blocks of concrete. Once I got Woody to accept Michael and I into his family, we would get a house, in the suburbs, with a fence and a yard. For now, though, it had to be an apartment. With no yard. And no Woody.

As luck would have it, we reached Boston just before the sun set and after stopping at a convenience store to get some diapers, wipes and some food, I checked us into a crummy little hotel room under my new name…Mikayla Hoyt. I felt no shame at taking Woody's name. My son already had it, and I would soon enough. Mikayla had been my mother's middle name, and was my middle name as well. Easy enough. Traceable, yet untraceable. Because no one would be out looking for a dead woman.

I scoured the newspaper as soon as Michael settled down for the night. I had exactly two hours between feedings, and although I knew I was supposed to rest while he was sleeping, I had adrenaline surging through my veins. He was in Boston, and now so was I. I could feel electricity, as though he were near, and I promised myself that it wouldn't be long before we would meet again. I closed my eyes briefly, seeing him standing in front of me, before I focused my attention on the ad section. I needed an apartment.

The listings went on for several pages, but just before Michael woke, I saw it. I grabbed a pen and circled the listing before it vanished…An apartment on Pearle Street. Right across from Jordan's building. It was perfect. If it was on the right side of the building, I would be able to look out of the window and watch her comings and goings, see who else visited…See if _he_ still did. I couldn't have planned it better…It was as if it was really meant to be, this horrible plan of mine.

Michael started crying for me and I rushed to pick him up, gathering his sweet little body in my arms and plopping us down into the stiff orange chair, the only chair in the room. He was rooting, searching for milk, and I pulled him to me and began to nurse him, feeling that soon everything would be better. I closed my eyes , once again, envisioning Woody there with me in our own home, watching me feed our son. It was so real I almost felt his arm resting on my bare shoulder. But I knew it wasn't real - not yet. The plastic chair was itchy and uncomfortable, the smell of the room stale, the lighting dim. A tear escaped down my cheek. This was not what I wanted for myself, not what I wanted for my son -- _our_ son.

Finally Michael drifted off to dreamland and I gently laid him down on a blanket we'd gotten from the clinic, it's sterile warmth better than anything the hotel had to offer. I wondered if I would be able to sleep through the next two hours. I almost couldn't wait for the light of day so I could call the listing, but before long I had nodded off and slept a fitful sleep, dreaming of Woody. He was walking arm-in-arm with Jordan into her apartment building, pulling her to him and kissing her deeply. Tomorrow, I thought in my tormented thoughts. Tomorrow I would start. For Michael. For me. For Woody. For the death of Jordan. For the love of my family - the family that was Michael and me…and Woody...


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: I don't own CJ/JOC or anything related to the show - drat! But I did add some characters of my own for the story's sake. Anyway, if I failed to mention this, the story came to me after Fire From the Sky. Because so far the story centers around Devan and her plans for revenge, and really hasn't mentioned where W/J are now in their relationship, the only problem would be Michael, Devan and Woody's son, and his age. I could slow things down considerably and age him a bit, but we'll have to see...Anyway, please read and review, as always. I enjoy reading your comments and look forward to feedback, critical or otherwise. And don't worry -- I am a HUGE W/J Shipper! Thanks!**_

Chapter 6 - The Perfect Place

Boston hadn't changed a bit, I thought ironically as I pushed Michael along the crowded sidewalk in his little stroller. I had called the listing first thing and had a showing in the afternoon. It gave me time to get some things situated…

I couldn't very well waltz into Jordan's neighborhood looking like myself. It would ruin my plans, cause discovery too soon. So...The first stopwas to a man I had heard of before who made fake IDs. Woody had told me about him once, said he was on the shady side, would do anything for money. He was an occasional informant for the Boston PD, so I needed to be careful. George Reese met me at a playground, where I looked like any normal young mother or nanny walking their little charge. He carried a laptop and a black briefcase and looked very professional in a blue-collar kind of way. I promised him the money once I had my documents, told him I needed to transfer some money. He was pretty easy, didn't ask a lot of questions. Although his eyebrows raised up in surprise when I gave him Woody's last name as my own.

"You know a Detective Hoyt?" he asked, his New England accent thick. I nodded carefully, waiting to see whether he might give me away. But that was all he asked, and I didn't fill him in. My past, present and future were no one else's business anyway, until I chose to make it their business. "It'll take a while. I'll need five g's." He paused, waiting to see if this would be a problem for me.

"Fine. After I get the documents, you can walk with me to the bank and wait outside. I'll even let you stand with my son, just so you know I won't back out." I couldn't afford the possibility of him turning me in to Woody, and I knew he was too greedy for the money. Michael would be just fine, in mysight the whole time, I reasoned with myself. It seemed a safe bet. Better than Reese following me into the bank and having more ammunition against me as a bargaining chip with the cops should he need it.

I sat on the park bench for awhole hour, flipping through a magazine and checking on my sleeping baby every now and then. I looked up every time someone walked past me, willing myself to remain cool and calm like always. I was afraid I'd be recognized. My nerves were starting to react to the tension and stress, and I couldn't afford that. I could not make a mistake now.

Reese finally walked up to me, strolling along ever-so-slowly, and bent and kissed me on the cheek. "Hey!" I started, but he whispered quickly in my ear. "Didn't want anyone to think anything of us taking off together, Sweetheart." I nodded, my eyes straying over to where I saw a plain clothes officer watching the park from his standard-issue unmarked car.

"Someone following you?" I asked, hoping he hadn't given me away. If he'd called Woody and raised any red flags, I was done.

"Nah, there's some pedophile on the loose and the cops are watching all the normal kiddie spots." He offered to push Michael's stroller, and I let him, as we walked down the street and away from the officer. I didn't want any trouble.

We walked into the bank, to transfer the money over. I could just imagine Henri's dismay to find that he was missing small sums of money. And it wouldn't do to put him on my trail. So I transferred it all, closing the Cayman account as Reese waved at me, Michael sleeping soundly in the stroller he was gripping. I felt a rush. It was going to be too easy. Soon Henri's money would be mine, untraceable. And Reese would be gone, no longer a potential liability. Then I could finally go on to the next phase. I smiled, just thinking about it, causing a stare from the bank president, but I rose to shake his hand and take the money I'd asked to withdraw from my new account. He was only too happy to have such a wealthy customer, and any suspicion was ignored in the face of greed. I knew he wanted me to keep my account in his bank, and as long as he continued gushing with compliments and simpering over me, I was content to let the money stay there.

After my banking was complete, I walked into the lobby, whereReese still guarded Michael, and after breathing a sigh of relief, I motioned for him to follow me. We walked back to the hotel, where I counted out the money.

"Five thousand. You're done. You don't know me, haven't seen me." I was firm.

"Hey lady, I don't know you anyways…Have a great life!" With that, George Reese and his laptop and his black briefcase left me and I was free to move on. At first I worried that maybe he could trace me back to the hotel, but I was sure he would be stopping off at a bar to relieve himself of some of hishard-earned cash and I would become the furthest thing from his mind. Once he bothered to remember - if he ever did - I would be a different person, far gone from the crappy little hotel room, and well on my way to reunification with Woody.

"Here we go!" I said happily, chirping along to Michael as we strolled down away from the dingy neighborhood and toward Boston's finer section. I had a few things to take care of before I met with the listing agent.

I stopped first at a drug store and bought a pair of sunglasses. Next on my list was a wig. And maybe a little stage makeup. All this for when I needed to be incognito - which would be any time I wasn't tormenting Jordan. I had been in the drama club through school, and I was not a stranger to disguises. It sounded almost hokey and I wanted to laugh, but when a police car sped by me, I sobered up, wondering again where Woody was and when I would get to see him. I raced back to the hotel, eager to get my new look together before my appointment with the listing agent. Michael started to coo and giggle as I hastily packed the sole bag we had and deposited it in the little basket under his stroller. When I closed the room to the hotel, I made sure I wiped the room clean from any trace of myself and left the key on the single dresser.

I finished with twenty minutes to spare, and headed back out the door, wig anad makeup in place, Michael in tow, toward Pearle Street. The agent was already waiting along the sidewalk and approached me right away as I held the newspaper and pretended to check the building's address.

"Hi, Miss Hoyt is it? I'm Alana Baylor, the listing agent." The tall brunette walked up to me and shook my hand. "And this is?" She indicated Michael, her voice fake and dripping with honey. I hated people like her, but I just smiled.

"This is my son, Michael. We're just up from…" my mind raced, trying to think of somewhere that sounded legitimate, somewhere I knew. "Virginia," I blurted, thinking of all the time I'd spent in the suburbs of DC with Henri before our broken engagement. Miss Baylor looked clueless about Virginia, her accent clearly from some part of New York, and I let out a small sigh of relief when she commented that she'd never been south of Manhattan.

"Well, let's take the tour, shall we? I'm happy to tell you that there's an elevator in this building, unlike some of the others nearby." She glanced disdainfully at some of the buildings, Jordan's in particular, and I decided that I liked her because of that. I followed along, pushing Michael's stroller through the double doors, and we rode up the elevator in silence.

"Here we are!" she smiled brightly, unlocking the door to a well-lit and spacious two bedroom apartment. It was pretty nice for the price, even though price was no object. What concerned me was the view. I went right to the windows, moving the blinds carefully. "A beautifully laid out unit, don't you think?" she asked, moving around. "The windows leave a lot of sunlight in, very nice for a family." She peered at me from behind the fact sheet, wondering if she'd made the sale or not, but I was too busy. Not only was Jordan's apartment building across from me, but Jordan's actual apartment was too.

"I'll take it!" I said with an enthusiasm I hadn't felt for months. Alana Baylor pulled out the rental agreement, a puzzled smile on her face.

"I'm so glad to hear that, Miss Hoyt…But what exactly sold you on this unit?" She was, no doubt, wondering why I'd agreed to take it without checking out the kitchen or the bedrooms.

I slid open the large glass door that opened onto a small gated patio. "Why, the stunning view, of course!" I said, meaning every word. "It's the perfect place!"


End file.
